Regardless of What Everyone May Think
by Cunning Wisdom
Summary: Draco comes to the Order offering to be a spy. Hermione becomes obbsessed with him and everything he does but its super complicated to explain so read the full summary inside. Promise its good. T for stronglanguage,nothing explicit, Ch4 up.. REVIEW PLEASE
1. Draconius Lucius Malfoy

Formal Summary:

Regardless of what everyone may think, Draco Malfoy really doesn't care. It doesn't matter which side wins the bloody war, so long as he is on said side. For him, the war is not about saving those he loves. The war is about destroying those he hates.

Being as he hates everyone, it's a win/win situation.

At least, that's what he thinks.

Regardless of what everyone may think, Draco Malfoy really does care. If he didn't, he wouldn't have come to help them. He says he hates everyone but that's not true. If it was, he wouldn't look at her that way, he wouldn't speak to her that way, and he would most certainly never touch her that way. She knew he was trying to seduce her. She was even well aware that her silly, girly body was causing him to win his little game.

But HE didn't realize that he was falling in love with her.

At least, that's what she thinks.

Hermione Granger has never been and will never be wrong.

But what if, just this once, she was.

A/N: Hey! This is my very first attempt at writing a real story so bear with me. Please do leave me many suggestions and reviews, I can already tell you I'll need them. The story is canon through six, then I start tweaking.

And as you all know:

JKR Brilliant Owner

I Jealous Not Owner

_Regardless of What Everyone May Think…_

"Prologue: Draconius Lucius Malfoy"

The street was cold and empty. The misty wind blew harshly against the pale skin of the young man sitting on the curb. It was August; there shouldn't be cold, misty wind. Hell, there shouldn't be any wind at all. The boy shuddered at the thought of the frightening hooded figures that made the summer so cold these days. It wasn't a shudder of fear, though. Draconius Lucius Malfoy did not shudder with fear. It was just all the bloody cold.

Draco realized he looked somewhat pathetic, all cold and pale, sitting on a street curb in Muggle London. He quickly jumped up and assumed what he hoped was a lazy and carefree position, leaning against his trunk. Draconius Lucius Malfoy was not a weak child and he would not be seen as one. Potter would soon come and he would be afraid. Draco was determined that it be so. After all, Draconius Lucius Malfoy was a man to be feared. _He_ had single handedly orchestrated the Wizarding World's very first successful attack on Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. _He_ was the brilliant mastermind who had helped to bring the death of the greatest wizard of the century, possibly longer.

'_Second greatest_,' he corrected himself automatically. Then, "No," he said allowed to no one in particular as the street was empty, "The absolute greatest." '_The Dark Lord must be trembling, knowing that I took on a wizard far greater than he will ever be and won_.' This he said to himself, in the safety of his mind, just in case. The boy, even at a young age, knew too much pride had been the downfall of many and too little the downfall of many more. Perfect balance was the key to success.

"Draco Malfoy," came a hard emotionless voice. "I must say, I am completely disgusted to see you alive and well," finished the voice of a raven-haired boy, no older than his fair counter-part standing across the street from him.

Draco turned slowly, careful to keep his easy-going demeanor, and faced his approaching old school rival, not surprised to see a wand pointed directly at his heart.

"Put your wand away, _Potter_" he sneered viscously, "I'm not going to hurt you."

"_You_ hurting _me_ is the least of my worries, _Malfoy_," the young man replied, spitting his opponent's sir name, much as Draco had just spat his. As he said this, his words took on a fierce meaning as three members of the famed Order of the Phoenix came out of the shadows to stand behind him. Draco recognized one as his own cousin, a half-blood whom he had never actually met but heard about quite often during his mother's rants. The other two were large men, unfamiliar, but Draco watched them carefully nevertheless.

"You didn't think I'd trust a known Death Eater to come alone, did you? Where are all your pathetic and cowardly little friends, _you little ferret_?"

'_Well isn't Potter is being particularly cruel tonight_,' Draco noted the cold remark referring to a traumatizing experience in Draco's fourth year at school. The emerald eyed hero would clearly not be thinking reasonably tonight.

"However, I bet I could best him in a duel pretty easily in this condition," Draco couldn't help but add quietly under his breath. But alas, he needed the reasonable Potter tonight.

"I'm not here to fight you, Potter" Draco said, somewhat softer this time. "I want to help…the Order that is… certainly not you." He finished with the familiar sneer creeping back into his voice.

Damn it. He shouldn't have added that. O well, just the asshole in him again. Damn that asshole in him. It was in his blood, his very nature and he was quite certain it'd get him killed one day. '_Most likely this day,_' he thought, silently reminding himself of the danger hanging in the misty air.

"Your message said you have valuable information for us." The larger of the two large men had decided to take control before Potter could get out the nasty remark on the tip of his tongue. He was older and Draco sensed he was not pleased with the school boy argument Potter was foolishly engaging in. Maybe they weren't just cronies after all.

"Why yes it did, I'm glad _somebody _noticed," sneered Draco coldly, "And, just out of curiosity, who exactly are you?"

"Kingsley Shackebolt," the impressive man replied with a bit of force. "I'm afraid I can't say it's a pleasure to finally meet you, Draco Malfoy." He was clearly trying to make a statement that he was someone to be respected. Unfortunately for him, Draconius Lucius Malfoy did not respect anyone.

'_O how very witty_,' Draco thought sarcastically. Then he put on his famous smirk, the smirk that so many people loved to hate and hated to love, and added aloud, "But just wait until you hear what I have to tell you…"


	2. Negotiations Begin

A/N: And here is Chapter 1. In case you haven't noticed by now, I do so love a good cliff hanger. I promise to try and update as quickly as possible so as not to be to annoying with them.

Just to pre-empt anything, I know you all probably think Draco is totally OOC by lusting after a "mudblood" but I think that as a teenage boy, he would lust after anything with breasts. Also, in the next few chapters I start to explain Draco's real thoughts on blood purity.

Also, the next chap or two will be written from Hermione's perspective but I'm worried it won't be nearly as much fun. However it is necessary. I'm sure I'll get used to it… eventually. I'll be back to Draco then and so forth. They both have thoughts going on and they both need to get them out for the story to make sense.

Long A/N, I know, probably not needed, but I wanted to explain some of my madness.

JKR, you are my hero. Therefore it can be assumed that I am not you. I repeat to those of you still in shock…. "I AM NOT J. K. ROWLING"

_Regardless of What Everyone May Think…_

Chapter 1: Negotiations Begin

Draco jumped back in surprise as Shacklebolt and the other man grabbed him on either side. He quickly closed his eyes and took a gulp of air, filling his lungs for what he guessed was coming. When he reopened his eyes, he was taken aback by the thick sheet of silence in the unfamiliar room. He quickly scanned his surroundings, attempting to place his new location.

He was in a small kitchen cramped full of random objects, many of them were surprisingly muggle. The tiny room appeared even more cluttered due to the mess. Draco noticed there was what appeared white decorations strewed all across the floor and the table sitting in the center of the room. White… was there a wedding here? Of course! The Weasley's were marrying their eldest son today. He remembered his own uncle was planning to attack the ceremony. Judging by the disarray of the room, he had done just that. Draco silently thanked Merlin he had left his home before the event took place. He was certain the Dark Lord would be highly displeased by the lack of blood. It was clear that though very messy; the room was not the scene of death.

So if this was the scene of the wedding, it was no doubt the Weasley home. Draco smirked at his brilliance for locating this supposedly secret location and turned to taunt the boy beside him about his success.

"Who knew," he sneered, "that all those times I taunted Weasel about his pathetic living conditions, I never even came close to the true horror of the situation. Really this is just dreadful."

Potter looked stricken. 'Good,' thought Draco, 'know what you're dealing with.'

"I don't know how you know about the Burrow, much less how you identified it but I suggest you be respectful. I'd hate for Mrs. Weasley to have to clean your nasty blood off her lovely home in the morning."

Just like Potter, always so quick to defend his precious friends, he often let his own walls down.

"O, of course," said Draco with an evil smile, "I suppose even a Weasley can be special to someone. Does her fat arse remind you of your own mum's dead one?"

The quiet determination that had kept Potter's voice cold and emotionless so far that night snapped before Draco's eyes. He watched in horror as the tall quidditch player lunged at him with obvious intent to seriously damage that beautiful, smirking face. Draco certainly did not expect Potter to react this way. Attack him, yes that was expected, but with a wand. This reaction was so… so… muggle. It was clear that Harry Potter was harboring much more hatred and anger than Draco had ever imagined.

"DON'T - YOU - EVER – TALK – ABOUT" the chosen one's screams violently ripped through the sheet of silence as each word was emphasized with a fierce punch to Draco's face. By the third word, Draco could taste the coppery blood now flowing in his mouth.

"HARRY! Stop it, please STOP!" A new voice was screaming. Draco's mind again began calculating. Female, from the left, most likely just walked through the door, pissed as hell but seemingly close to tears at the same time. Draco knew that combination in a woman's voice well. She was dangerous.

Potter seemed to have had the same thoughts as he slowly stood up to face the wrath so fondly called woman. Draco turned his head to see his savior and got quite the shock.

There standing in the doorway was none other than the know-it-all mudblood herself, Hermione Granger. The shock though was in what she was wearing: a slinky little white tank top and a very, very short pair of shorts. Her wild curls had been pulled back into a neat bun, but with the excitement of the room, a few of the soft locks had come down to frame her face in a very sexy manner, like she had just woken up after shagging the daylights out of some lucky bloke. 'Damn, I always thought Granger was a dirty little mudblood,' Draco thought, 'but apparently she is also dirty in other ways.' He couldn't help but smirk at his own little joke. The asshole in him wanted to share, but he managed to choke down the urge.

"Hermione," began Shacklebolt, once again attempting to take control.

"No, Kingsley, don't even try. You said he was coming tomorrow night."

Draco tried to not look to amused at the fact a cute little witch, not even 18, was telling off a Ministry Auror like he was a misbehaving toddler.

"Hermione," now tried the unidentified one, who Draco noticed in the proper lighting was redheaded and drenched in freckles. A Weasley, no doubt.

"Charlie, I am well aware that the tactic of bringing him here a full day earlier than anyone thought would help to protect the situation in case something was leaked. However, I would have thought, no hoped, that I would have been one of the people chosen to know the truth." Once again, Granger curtly cut off a full grown man who seemed to cower from her bossy, know-it-all tone of voice.

The entire room became rather quiet again and Draco suspected Potter and his lackeys held their heads in shame not so much for lying to her as for getting caught in doing so.

"We didn't wake anyone else did we?" finally ventured another female voice. Draco realized this was the first time he had heard his cousin speak tonight. What was her name, something odd; he almost wanted to say Nymphadora or something. No, it couldn't be that strange. He would just have to call her Tonks, her muggle father's sir name.

"No, thank Merlin," replied Granger with more than a hint of exasperation, "You actually didn't wake me. I was already up doing some research."

"Do you always research dressed like a little whore?" Draco asked with a single eyebrow raised beneath his tousled blonde hair. Damn it. The asshole in him would simply not behave tonight.

The girl turned to him with amber eyes flashing death and he noticed a faint blush crawl up her cheeks. If anything, it made her even sexier.

"Why yes Malfoy, I usually do dress comfortably when I research. And may I say it is so NOT nice to see you again."

What was it with the Order and these stupid little greetings? They didn't really think they were witty, did they? Draco was certainly not amused.

A cold voice suddenly broke Draco's thoughts and he turned to see the boy who had just recently been beating the shite out of him. He had somehow forgotten Potter's presence, being mostly preoccupied with Granger's rampage… and slightly distracted by her cleavage.

"I think I need to leave," said Potter, returning to his emotionless voice from before.

"Yes Harry, I think it's just a bit too soon," Hermione cooed soothingly, "I'll take your place, and you get some rest."

Draco couldn't help but smile. Granger had always been the most reasonable one in Potter's Perfect Posse. She was smart enough to give him what he wanted without too much of a fight. Not to mention, as an added bonus, he would get to spend the rest of the night staring at those perfect, creamy breasts that were already so close to coming completely out of her skimpy top.

Potter quickly made his way out of the room and Granger took a seat at the small table, brushing aside some of the fallen white ribbons. Kingsley and Tonks took a seat on either side as Charlie Weasley made his way out of the room in the same direction as Potter.

"Goodnight, Charlie, thanks for your help tonight," Hermione called gently. Then with a definite change in tone she said to Draco, "You sit."

Draco once again choked down a number of things the asshole was begging to say and quietly took a seat at the other end of the table. He kept a deathly silent eye contact, thinking that Granger should break easily provided the appropriate kind of pressure was applied. A quick insult wouldn't do as well with her as it did with Potter. He was going to have to unnerve her slowly.

"Now then, Malfoy," said Hermione as if it were simply a business meeting discussing the latest sales of a product and not a top secret meeting with the enemy discussing the greatest Wizarding war of the century, "Explain to me why you are here, offering us information that will ultimately lead to the failure of your precious Dark Lord."

Draco could hardly miss the harsh hate and accusation brilliantly disguised in her calm, steady voice.

"Well, Granger," Draco replied matching her tone perfectly and even adding his trademark smirk for a flare, "I'm here to give you information on an attack being panned by my father as we speak. I'm doing this because I want my father to fail. You see, one rarely fails the Dark Lord once, and I am most certain that after this second failure, the Dark Lord will no doubt kill him." Draco smiled evilly at his twisted brilliance before adding, "You see, Granger, I would very much like my father dead."

The words hung in the air and Draco could see those pretty amber eyes trying to comprehend the massive meaning of this simple statement. He knew she would be shocked and mortified by the simple tone he used to describe his plot to bring about his own father's, and likely his own mother's, morbid deaths.

He was therefore not disappointed by the look of sheer horror on that sweet little face.


	3. Hermione Jane Granger

A/N: Hey guys, sorry it took so long. Family stuff and what not. But here is Chapter 3.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE Review. I am not above story threats about not posting till I get reviews. Seriously, I never knew how hard it is to write a story till now. I need support, criticism, or at least the knowledge that people are actually reading this.

Anyhow: Enjoy!!!!!!!

_Regardless of What Everyone May Think_

Chapter 3: Hermione Jane Granger

Hermione quickly wiped any emotion off her face. She couldn't believe she allowed herself to be shocked by this arsehole. This was Malfoy; the unexpected should always be expected. Besides, there was no bloody way in hell Hermione Jane Granger would let the enemy see her get flustered.

Enemy. That word had been making Hermione's stomach turn cold for the past year now. That word along with war, death, Death Eater, pain, loss, fear, and others as the list continued to grow seemed to momentarily suck all the oxygen out of a room. Hermione was beginning to know these words, really know them, and for the first time in her life, she really hated being a know-it-all. She had once again stopped using You-Know-Who's name. It was filled with too much of that…gut-wrenching cold. Cold like the grey eyes still piercing her own. '_Enemy. Malfoy. Right._'

"Well," she spoke rather calmly considering the nausea, "The Order of the Phoenix is always interested in information concerning any plans of attacks on…"

"Granger," Malfoy rudely cut in, "This isn't just _information;_ this is _everything_. Lucius won't stand a chance. You don't even realize how lucky you are that I'm here."

"Lucky? Being in your presence is hardly _lucky_," she retorted, feeling the anger rise again.

"Well that's where your wrong, little know-it-all. I happen to be one of the most important Death Eaters, one of the most trusted of the Dark Lord's servants, and I'm here to offer valuable information to a prissy little Mudblood bitch that doesn't even de –''

"O shut it, you arrogant prick!" Malfoy nearly jumped at the sudden intrusion from Tonks. "You think you're something special, you little git? As an Auror, I can tell, you are nothing more than a knock-off Death Eater. You aren't capable of any _real _damage. You just prance around and act all tough. I know all about your 'activities' at school last year and the assignment you were given makes it clear that You-Know-Who doesn't give a shite about you. He expected you to die. He _wanted_ you to die."

"But I'm not dead, am I?" Malfoy nearly screamed, taking his eyes off Hermione. She made a mental note of how very out of character this was for him. He was becoming flustered himself. But then, as if he somehow knew her thoughts, he turned his glare back to her and sneered. "No, the Dark Lord was surprised as well when I was indeed successful. He treats me with respect. I killed his greatest enemy." _'Liar.'_ He was lying about the last part, maybe the first part as well. Hell, this was Malfoy; there was no telling where the lies stopped.

The room became rather quiet as Tonks was clearly taken aback by his reaction. Kingsley also seemed at a loss for words. Hermione was, as usual, thinking.

She was the only person present, other than Malfoy, who knew what had really happened on the tower. Harry had told her and Ron, no one else. They had decided to allow people to believe that Malfoy was just a disgusting murderer who did what he did only to please his Dark Lord. It didn't matter in the end what his real reasons were; he had still done it. What _did_ matter was that he had done it despite the option of getting out. She knew what Dumbledore had offered to him. She also knew that he was completely unaware of this knowledge. That would be an advantage. But should she tell him? That choice would lead down two roads: either he would get angry and leave without telling them what they needed, or he would be humbled and submit. It was a chance, and Hermione Jane Granger hated taking chances. It always gave her that cold feeling in her stomach; it was so similar to hearing those forbidden words. Chances meant that the next moment could not be perfectly planned. But then, chances were part of war. War. She felt that cold feeling again.

"Malfoy," she spoke quietly, "the only reason you did survive was because Dumbledore offered you asylum. Snape showed up and finished it before you had a chance to prove to Dumbledore just how unworthy you were of his help. You are not a hero, Malfoy. You're just a lucky bastard who got his arse saved by his own victim."

"How do you know what happened?"

It was a simple question with no hidden malice. His voice was just as clean of emotion as his face. Not to mention, that damn eye contact was getting to be disturbing. He was just trying to unnerve her, and she had half a mind to just break the gaze and look elsewhere, anywhere but those cold, grey eyes. But Hermione Jane Granger would never be the first to break.

"I know and that's all you need from me."

He smirked; why did he smirk? Hermione knew from six years of experience that nothing good happened when Draco Malfoy smirked.

"Actually Granger, I'm going to need a lot more than that," he grinned mischievously, "Which, coincidentally, brings us back to our original business."

Hermione waited for him to continue, but was not surprised when he merely looked at her. Bloody hell, this was going to take all night. He wanted control. He wanted her to ask him what he wanted. He wanted to have her following his orders. Well fuck him; this was _her_ meeting. So she waited and continued to stare into his deathly cold eyes and ignored how much she hated that cold feeling it gave her. He would break first; she knew it.

Kingsley, however, either did not understand the unspoken rules of the game, or did not care. Hermione strongly suspected the latter.

"Well," he said rather exasperatedly, "I assume you are implying that you wish to _sell _us your information?"

"Yes, precisely. It's nice to see you are so very perceptive, Shacklebolt is it?" Malfoy sneered, more towards Hermione than Kingsley. "But more than that, I wish to _continue _selling my valuable information, become a spy."

"Ah I see," he replied simply before turning to Hermione.

He seemed to be asking her opinion He must have supposed she knew him. Well she did know him. Didn't she? Of course she did. She went to school with him for six years. Apparently, this decision would be up to her then. Draco Malfoy: a spy for the Order. Immediately, her mind began working.

Firstly, could he be that useful? He was, after all, only 17. Not to mention his family name was not exactly beloved by the Death Eaters at the moment. But then, she, Harry and Ron were also 17. They were certainly well informed. More importantly, he definitely had information on Lucius Malfoy; that made him useful.

Secondly, could he be trusted? This one was tricky. First instinct said Hell no, Hell no, Fuck no. But further contemplation led her to believe otherwise. Helping the Order as a spy had some very obvious and very powerful benefits, and Slytherins did love benefits. Didn't they? Or maybe they just loved blood purity. Or what if, just what if, he had changed. It was entirely possible that he had gotten cold feet and had decided to bale. More than possible, it was likely. It would be just like Malfoy to march in here and pretend like they needed him, when really, he needed them, desperately. But then, could she be certain? She had to admit, she really didn't know. Hermione Jane Granger hated to not know. She would just have to ask him why he deserved their trust, being as she couldn't figure out the certain truth on her own. Hermione Jane Granger hated having to ask _other people_ questions; she preferred it the other way around. But then, Hermione Jane Granger really, really hated taking chances.

"Ok, I know that insufferable ego is just dying to tell me, so tell me. Why do you think we are going to trust you?"

He looked somewhat offended by her insult but then for the umpteenth time that night rearranged his face into another disgusting smirk.

"Well I don't think you will. In fact, I imagine trust will have very little to do with our negotiations."

'_Of course'_, she thought. She couldn't believe that for a moment, she actually believed that Malfoy had changed. She couldn't believe that she had actually allowed her silly little mind to think that _Draco Malfoy_ had seen the light and joined the good side. No, this was still Malfoy in front of her. He was still the obnoxious, annoying, arrogant, selfish prick. This was not going to change. '_But then,' _she mused, '_that's almost trustworthy, isn't it?'_

A/N: Well? I always imagined Hermione's mind being kinda crazy, like mine. I know it's a hell of a lot more thought than actual plot but well…. TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK!

….ah hem… thank you and have a nice day.


	4. Negotiations End

A/N: Ok, so ya, it's been a while. But that's what sucks about being a teen; you never really get to decide what you will do and when you will do it. (Hint: I MIGHT be a little pissed at my parents) BUT: I am back. Finally

A/N: Ok, so ya, it's a pretty boring chapter. And I'm not proud of it, but its the only way I can give you the set up for the story.

BUT!!!!

the next one involves a shirtless Draco! YAAAAY!!!

….Thank you to my lovely reviewers

* * *

Chapter 4: Negotiations End

Two and a half hours later, as the clock in the adjourning room struck three in the morning, Hermione sat alone in the dark kitchen with the painstakingly formulated contract before her. Always being one to take on responsibility, she had told Tonks and Moody that she would be happy to send off the parchment for McGonagall's approval.

As she looked down at the contract, she remembered the seemingly endless two and a half hours of arguing that had taken place just to agree on the somewhat loose terms of it. Malfoy was disrespectful and cruel to the elder Aurors, despite the fact that they held his life in their hands. He really was such a stupid little boy. Hermione eventually had to be the one to referee the immature dispute and ensure that it at least moved in the right direction. It seemed as if Malfoy had responded to her better than to the other, wiser members of the Order; probably because he was familiar with her and he assumed he could have better control. Well, he was utterly wrong. She had of course out-Slytherined the Slytherin and had a rather nicely arranged contract sitting before her, ready to be sent to the head of the Order of the Phoenix to be sealed in unbreakable magic. _'Score one for the mudblood,' _she thought snidely.

Still, she had to admit, there was something so eerie about seeing her neat signature beside Malfoy's disgustingly elegant scrawl. It looked as if she actually trusted the nasty little git. He was supposed to be a spy according to the paper. _'Please,' _she thought, _'Snape was a spy and looked how lovely that had turned out.' _

Regardless of her own doubts though, she stood and headed towards the pot of red powder. The Order had created their own floo network after the Death Eaters had started their infiltration of the Ministry. It was only a matter of time before the bastards also infiltrated their network. Thinking this, as she tossed the powder and then the parchment into the flames, she made a mental note to keep Malfoy away from the stuff. As she watched the contract spin faster and faster into nothingness, she began to think of all the other things she would have to keep away from Malfoy.

Well, first and foremost, Harry. Losing Dumbledore had been terrible for him, more so than anyone else. Dumbledore had been his hero, his teacher, and even like his father. Hermione knew that he had so needed all three of those. She was certain that watching him die had been completely unbearable for her sweet friend. His reaction to it had proved it. Running after Snape and Malfoy had been the most rash, irresponsible, illogical response to such a situation imaginable. So of course, it was the very thing Harry had done. Hermione loved that about him though. When he had told her and Ron about the night, she could see all of his hurt and rage in each tear he shed. But more importantly, she could see the love and the courage that was causing those tears in his eyes. That was why she loved Harry so much. He had the most honest, beautiful eyes imaginable. She could always see what he was thinking and feeling. And it was always love and courage. He would do anything to protect the ones he loved, possibly even kill. Hell, he nearly did tonight. So step 1: Keep Malfoy away from Harry.

She continued that thought by concluding he would also need to be kept far away from Ron. Well, maybe. Ron _had_ been _so very _frustrating lately. She wanted a boyfriend. She wanted a sweet, funny, loyal bloke to hold her, kiss her, rub her, and touch her and to make her shake and… well, other naughty things. Was that really so much to ask? She was nearly eighteen years old. Ron was acting like a twelve year old. They had had some really sweet moments over the summer, like when she laid her head on his shoulder at Dumbledore's funeral, and when he told her she looked so pretty earlier today at Bill's wedding. She just wished he would grab her, drag her to his room and snog the daylights out of her. Was that _really_ so much to ask? Apparently, because he had yet to do one physical thing to show that he liked her. Remembering Malfoy's earlier comment concerning her apparel, she blushed and sat at the table, fuming. She hated it when the cruel things he said were true. She had deliberately dressed provocatively tonight after everyone had gone to bed, hoping that Ron would take a bloody hint. All he had done though was stutter a pathetic goodnight and run off to bed. She had then been so upset she couldn't sleep so she had buried herself in her horcrux research, which had now gotten her in charge of Malfoy. Of course, Ron had once again ruined everything. It was completely his fault she had yet another responsibility. At least it wasn't Harry's anymore though.

Now that she thought about it, she realized neither of the boys would really have been capable of dealing with Malfoy. They were just too… male. Malfoy wasn't the normal bully. Ron was used to older brothers shoving him around and Harry had dealt with his obnoxious cousin for years. But Malfoy, Hermione smiled, Malfoy fought like a girl. He was vicious and cruel and made casual remarks that sliced like a knife. He could make a person cry without raising a finger. As much as Hermione hated to admit it, Ron was a very easy target for a boy like Malfoy. In fact, for six years he had easily hit Ron's sensitive buttons precisely and effectively every time. She remembered in their second year when Malfoy had gotten him so upset he had accidentally jinxed himself. So step 2: Keep Malfoy away from Ron.

She looked up to see the fire suddenly turn bright red again as two pieces of tattered parchment came spinning into view. One was the contract – the magic now complete with McGonagall's signature – and the other was a small note with the professor's neat script written on it.

_ Dear Miss Granger,_

_ I owe you a great deal for all of your help this evening. I know this should not be your responsibility and I can assure you that everyone staying at the Burrow will also be watching Mr. Malfoy closely. However, judging by the incredibly beneficial terms of the contract you sent me, it is clear that you seem to have more control over the boy than anyone else in the Order does. I can only imagine why. I am not asking you to take full responsibility for Mr. Malfoy while he stays with us, but I would ask that you continue with the help you have given thus far. Have a lovely day._

_ Yours Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

Well bloody fantastic. Now she really had to keep an eye on him. She was going to anyways of course, but now it was practically demanded. She immediately pulled out a spare piece of parchment and a quill and began making a to-do list for everything that needed to be done before she slept.

Mrs. Weasley would be waking in about two hours and she needed to be filled in about the Death Eater now living in her home.

Then, Hermione needed to make sure everyone knew that agreement so that Malfoy would be safe. She quickly scribbled through this last one and placed it at the bottom of the parchment. It could wait, she figured.

Then she really ought to go speak with him directly and make sure he understood just who was watching whom here. Actually, that one would be last, she decided.

The list was about half a foot long when a soft voice interrupted her thoughts. She looked up to see the soft, sweet, tired eyes of her favorite DADA teacher ever: Remus Lupin. "What are you doing up still? Dora came to bed half an hour ago."

"O," Hermione giggled, "I was doing some work for the Order and I still have quite a bit left to do." She then began to ramble off what she had on the list thus far. She always seemed to ramble around Professor Lupin. She really needed to stop. She had gotten about half way through her agenda though when she noticed he was chuckling at her.

"Hermione, go to bed this instant. You are not the sole caregiver in this house. Frankly, I think Molly would be horrified if you tried to usurp her position. You are seventeen years old and you need to let the old and useless people handle the silly business like this."

Hermione was quite offended by these words. Here McGonagall had just asked her – nay ordered her – to handle things and Lupin starts treating her like a silly child.

"Thank you for your concern, sir," she began curtly. "However, Professor McGonagall asked me to take care of the situation. Clearly, she is unaware of my tender youth though. Perhaps you should speak with her."

He looked at the note she held out for him and considered it carefully for a few moments. After reading it thoroughly, he looked up and smiled warmly. God, Tonks was one lucky witch.

"Hermione, I don't mean to insult you. I just want you to know that you do not have to deal with this all alone," he stated simply and sweetly. There was something really kind about his words even if he was taking away her responsibility, which she loved so dearly. "Now go to bed dear. I'll take over for tonight, and then you can jump right back into control in the morning."

She begrudgingly stumbled from her chair and began to leave the room, barely remembering to thank him for his '_kindness._' She supposed it would be better if she got some sleep, but certainly no more than three or four hours. As she began to ascend the stairs, it occurred to her that she should still go talk to Malfoy. After all, McGonagall herself had said that she had more control over him than anyone else did. It was therefore her responsibility to make sure he understood the rules. Not to mention, his room was right next to hers.

* * *

A/N: as always, please review, Its the only way I can determine whether or not I should continue or just leave it to die in failure...

Also, it might take a while for the next update as well. Life's kinda in a hole right now. A really really dark, nasty hole.


	5. The It

Draco had followed his cousin up the stairs to what appeared would be his room - or rather cell - he realized as soon as he opened the door. The walls were a nasty pale green color with swirls of stains from Merlin knew what, giving the paint a very vomit-like look about it. The visual was accented further by the vomit-like stench emitting from the carpet. The entire space was about 4 by 5 meters with only two windows. He gave the witch by his side a look displaying his '_are you fucking serious?'_ mood.

"This will be your room. Its one of the bigger ones, being as it's older. Most of us stay in temporary add-ons. But I asked them to give you one of these 'cause, you know, I figured you were having a rough time."

She said this with such a cheery tone, Draco was almost positive she was serious. Not really sure how to respond to this frightening piece of news, he decided to ignore it completely. It was best not to appear ungrateful, even if he had every right in hell to be.

"Um, so what's your name?" he said with as much casualty as he could muster.

"O, it's Nymphadora, but call me Tonks. I'm your cousin." She stated simply, as if it was the most normal circumstance to be meeting your cousin after a three-hour battle over a contract with her.

"Yeah, I… uh, kind of recognized you." His eyes trailed their way to the floor without his mind's permission. Merlin this was so awkward.

"Right, well, I'm glad you're on our side now. Maybe my blood's not as bad as Sirius always used to say."

"Um, thanks…" he muttered, a little freaked by her weird sense of humor. Merlin this was so fucking awkward.

The two stood there for a few moments and Draco noticed that she wasn't really that much older than him. In fact, that obnoxious pink hair made her look like she was only a few years older at most. He didn't even know why he noticed, he just kind of liked that about her.

"Well," she smiled brightly after a few seconds, "I should get to bed, what with my _boyfriend _waiting and all."

And with that, she simply turned and left a baffled Draco.

"I suppose that's why proper wizards don't marry muggles." He mused to himself, while looking for a safe, vomit-free place to sit.

After deciding to postpone sitting for as long as possible, he began to look through some of the items in his room. There was full length mirror near one of windows and a dresser in the corner, next to the other window. One of the drawers had been opened to show a clean shirt and pants, which would have been a sweet gesture, had they not once belonged to a Weasley. There was also an extremely large, and apparently forgotten, potted plant in the corner next to the door and across from the windows, and, Judging by the menacing movements of its vines, it seemed to be seeking vengeance for its neglect. The mirror however looked safe enough, so he approached it cautiously.

"You're lookin' a bit tired, pet. Nothin' a good rest won't help."

O just dandy. A talking mirror, charmed to help you look your best and annoy you until you do.

"I'll ask your opinion when I want it." He replied perhaps a little more cruelly than an inanimate object really needed.

"A smile wouldn't hurt you either." The mirror snipped back and Draco thought he saw his own reflection sneering at him.

"Look, just keep your mouth or whatever you have shut for a bit, I want to take a look at something."

"O, it's alright dear; we all have embarrassing tattoos from wild nights of insanity. No need to be ashamed of 'em" The mirror replied sweetly, unknowingly hitting a mark very close to home.

"Just shut up," Draco said as he began shrugging off his robes. He then pulled his trunk to the center of the room and opened it. The inside was mostly empty save for some ink bottles, quills, parchment, three changes of robes, two pairs of pants, four shirts, a Slytherin Hogwarts sweater, two pairs of shoes, an extra cloak with silver embroidery in the collar (to be worn on nicer occasions), a small bottle of cologne, a shaving kit, his own bar of soap (like he could really share with Weasels), and a complete healing kit. Rather light traveling really.

He pulled out the last of these items and began sorting through the potions. He finally picked an unlabeled potion in a plain brown vial and opened it, taking a sniff for assurance. The fishy, eggy smell was assurance enough.

Standing, he slowly unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off to reveal his chest, and couldn't help but take a few moments to examine his physic. It had changed a lot in the past few months, partially to new life habits, partially to stress, and also just because he was growing up. His shoulders had broadened but the skin had sunk in a bit there as well. He decided it made him look sculpted and a little chiseled. It helped that his new lifestyle had required a bit of strength, so he reasoned some of his new look really was due to newfound muscles. His ribs were fairly visible through his skin but, (he couldn't help grinning) so were six well-defined abs. All in all, he was rather pleased with his new look, and he could think of a few ladies who would be as well.

He tried flexing his arms a little to see how big he could make them, when reality struck him hard.

"O dear, pet, that's a rather nasty one isn't it?"

Draco ignored the mirror and didn't even bother telling it to shut up again. It was obviously about as thick as its owners were. He poured a few drops of the foul smelling potion on his "rather nasty tattoo" and sighed as some of the color drained and the pain receded. Suddenly his appearance in the mirror looked so much less… sexy. The ugly black mark on his left arm seemed too big for him, making him look like a small child wearing his father's work robes.

Suddenly, his melancholy analogy to his life was interrupted by a banging door.

"What are you doing?" asked the frizzy haired intruder who, Draco noticed somewhat pleased and somewhat frustrated, was still wearing nothing but a tiny tank and even tinier shorts.

"What am I doing? What the bloody hell are you doing, barging into my room?" Draco cried grabbing his shirt and pulling it back on, not bothering to button it now that his arms were covered.

Granger looked like she was about to burst into a fit of giggles. Well, she technically was, but Draco did love denial.

"Were – were you – _looking_ at yourself in the mirror?"

"No, I was examining myself for any harm Potter might have caused during his rampage."

"O, bullocks Malfoy, you know my best friends are boys. I know you are all just as self-conscious as us girls."

"I am not self-conscience. I know damn well that I am gorgeous."

She actually seemed to get a bit upset at this a turned a little pink in her cheeks.

"Is that what Pansy tells you during your pathetic attempts to please her?" she sneered with bright red ears. O, now she was really embarrassed. This was too much fun to pass up.

"No, Granger," Draco cooed, changing his tactics entirely, "It's what _all_ the girls moan and scream as I rock them to glorious orgasms over and _over_ again."

She looked absolutely stricken at this, and it was all Draco could do not to laugh. And actually, the stricken look was kind of cute on her, so he decided to top it off with a flare; just to see how far it could go. He slowly approached her, ducking his head to catch her gaze, while slowly, oh so slowly, sliding his shirt off his arms.

"I bet I could make you moan it too, Granger…."

He had dropped his shirt completely and was about two inches away from her when he realized her gaze was no longer fixed on his. He looked down to see her staring at it. The it. The only it. He jumped back and pulled his robes over his arms and fastened them shut to cover what they could of his chest.

"I – I- goodnight." She stammered after a few awkward seconds, before turning and slamming the door behind her.


End file.
